Love Story
by Wolf Jade
Summary: One-shot. "I'm being shipped to Iraq in two weeks." Trory. Follows "These Feelings".


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gilmore Girls, for if I did Tristan either wouldn't have left or, if he did, Logan and Rory would have gotten engaged. I also do not own the lyrics used in this chapter; they belong to Taylor Swift.

**  
Note:** Another one-shot…I know. I really should start writing chapter stories again, and if I had an idea for one (not one's that keep giving my writer's block) I would. But right now, all I manage to come up with is enough for a one-shot. Ah, well. So here's another Tristan/Rory…Set a few years after _These Feelings_. The verses from the song are not in order…

**Love Story**

_Romeo, save me  
They try to tell me how I feel  
This love is difficult, but it's real  
Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess  
It's a love story  
Baby, just say yes_

--

She stopped in her tracks. Ahead of her stood the one person she had dreamed of since she had graduated high school. He wasn't looking at her but she knew it was him. There was no doubt in her mind that it was him; who else would be standing in front of her door in military fatigues? Slowly, her eyes drifted shut as she remembered the last time she had seen him. The day she had gone to his graduation from the academy. The moment she kissed him and left, he ran after her. Why did he have to do what she hadn't had the guts to do when he left?

"Tristan?" She called softly from her solitary position by the elevators.

"Hey Mary," he said with a smirk as he turned to look at her.

She allowed her own smirk to come onto her face, "That would be Mary Magdalene now." At the shocked look on his face she laughed. "Don't look so surprised, I'm not as-"

"With Bag-boy?" He asked cutting her off.

"Yes." She couldn't bring herself to say any more of about it.

Would he leave if he knew she had slept with a married man? How about if he found out about her trysts with Logan? She couldn't let herself think about that; it's not like they were dating. Why would he care?

"I, uh," he rubbed the back of his neck.

"You look good in those fatigues," she said before she could stop herself.

He looked down at himself, "Really? I guess that adage about guys always looking good in uniforms is true."

"Of course it's true." She stepped past him to get to her door and once it was open she turned back to him, "Do you want to come in?"

He nodded a bit uncertainly and followed her into the small apartment.

--

_Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone  
I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run  
You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess  
It's a love story  
Baby, just say yes_

--

"Rory."

She jerked around to look at him. The reason he was here must be serious if he was calling her Rory instead of Mary.

"You finally learned my name."

There was no laughter or quirky comment from him. She set the cup of coffee on the counter and pushed it towards him. For the last four years she had no idea how to define their relationship. Was it one-sided or something more? She never could tell. He would occasionally write her letters, but there was never a mention about what they were to each other. But as he sat there in silence, she wondered why he was here. What was he going to tell her? Would she like it or would it give her something to cry over?

"So? What it is it?"

"I'm being deployed to Iraq in two weeks."

"What? I thought you were getting out of the military!"

He lowered his head and wouldn't meet her eyes. "I couldn't let my company go over there without me, just because I was being selfish."

"Selfish? There's nothing selfish about wanting to get out of the military to be there for your dying grandfather!" She wanted to cry, but all that came out of her was anger.

"I was wrong about what I wanted to do. The military is my life. I don't see myself as doing anything other than that," he declared. "Please Rory; I need you to understand why I'm doing this. If you can stand behind me on this then I don't know how I'll be able to leave."

"I can't stand the thought of you going to Iraq."

He looked up at her, "You know I love you. What I wouldn't give to be able to date you normally and be able to bring you places. But that isn't going to happen."

"You love me?"

"Of course I do. Why else would I have kept writing to you? Why would I be here telling you all of this if I didn't love you?"

"Tristan, I don't know what to say…I just-"

"You don't have to say anything. Just let me in, let me see all of you. That's all I need. With all of that I'll have something to keep me sane, something to keep me living."

--

_I got tired of waiting  
Wondering if you were ever coming around  
My faith in you is fading  
When I met you on the outskirts of town  
And I said _

--

When he left two weeks later, it was like someone had taken a huge chunk of her heart. She buried herself in her work for five months until something happened that demanded her full attention. In those five months she had heard from him only a handful of times and had worried about him every second of every day.

She adjusted the strap, of the Nikon digital camera, on her shoulder and brushed a hand against her forehead. The heat was unbearable, she felt like she was going to die of heat exhaustion. Dust and sand were blowing everywhere and no matter where she looked, she couldn't see plants. Only a harsh brown dust and the billowing of desert camouflaged tents. Finally, she focused on one of the only things of color that she could see. A blue sign was planted in the dirt before one of the tents. The numbers and letters written on it showed her she was exactly in the spot she needed to be.

"Excuse me," she called as she stepped through the opening in the tent. "I'm Rory Gilmore; the new journalist that's assigned here."

"Welcome to Iraq, Ms. Gilmore." A man stood up from one of the desks, "I'm Lieutenant Hudgens."

"It's nice to meet you, sir."

He smiled, "I'm sure it is. Well, let's get you over to your tent to drop those off," he motioned to her bags, "and then I can introduce you to some of the men."

"Actually sir, one of the sergeants already showed me to the tent. This," she held up one of the bags, "has some goodies for one of your men."

"Who exactly are they for and how do you know-"

"Mary?" The captain was cut off.

She smiled as she turned, "Tristan, just the man I was looking for."

"What the hell are you doing here?" He seemed angry at her, not that she could blame him. "You should be in the US, not here in Iraq."

"You are looking at the new war correspondent for the New York Times," she informed him with a bit of an uncharacteristic smirk. "It's in my job description to go to war torn countries."

--

I had to stop it there. If I had gone any further it would have become cheesy and pointless. Besides, I already went a bit further then I was going to. I hope everyone enjoyed it. I'm not particularly happy with it, but whatever. I'm hardly ever happy with my own work. It's a bit rushed and choppy. Maybe I'll fix it at some point.

Review please, and tell me what you think…


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